


day of the dead

by french_anarchy



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex speaks Spanish in this, Día de los Muertos | Day of the Dead, Gen, Good Parent Alexander Hamilton, Philip's first Dia de Los muertos, lmao but it's actually fond memories, mentions of his family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 05:29:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20902397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/french_anarchy/pseuds/french_anarchy
Summary: “It’s pronounced, calaveras de azucar. In English it translates to, sugar skulls and it's a kind of cookie people bake during Dia de Los Muertos.”





	day of the dead

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted this on my amino & decided to upload it here

_ “When I was a child, my mother would let me dress the ofrenda.” _

_ The ginger gathers some pictures from a box, looking at each one of them for the best one. He hands them to the little boy sitting next to him, fascinated with the thought of decorating something. The boy gawks in delight at the pictures and picks up one, though he has a hard time figuring out who these people are.  _

_ He lifts a picture up to see it better; one with a woman and two kids smiling in front of a car. The colors were fading off the photo, but Philip could see she has bright red hair and little dots that decorated her face like a starry night. The boy has little recollection of who she is or if they have ever met. _

_ “My dad would let my brother and I bake  calaveras de azucar  and he would help.” _

_ Hamilton shuffles through the box, sighing as he pulled a photo. A man with auburn hair holding a batch of undecorated cookies. He’s smiling in this one, like all the others, and looks as though he’s having a good time. Was he ever happy with them? Or was he just faking?  _

_ Alexander never quite understood why he left. It felt so sudden because the day before he was smiling. Holding his brother close, kissing his mother, saying ‘I love you’ to each one of them before they lay their heads to sleep. Was that all just for show? Did he ever really mean anything he said? Did his mother do something wrong? _

_ “What’s her name?” _

_ Alexander splits from the thought. The boy- his son, Philip- is asking a question. The ginger stores the photo of his-  the man  away under the rest, pushing the rest into the depths of his mind where they belong. He over his son’s shoulder and chuckles softly, _

_ “That’s my mother. Her name is Rachel.” _

_ He slides his finger to the taller boy in the photo, _

_ “And that would be my older brother, James.” _

_ Philip rubs a thumb over the smallest boy, squinting his eyes to register who he looks like. That boy looks so familiar if he could just figure out  who it reminds him of that would be great. The four year old gasps, _

_ “Is that you?” _

_ “Good job, Philip. It is me.” _

_ The boy gets up and puts that picture on the ofrenda. It’s the perfect family photo. _

_ Alex looks through the box for another picture of his mother. Maybe a portrait that someone took? Did he grab that one? Alex was in such a frenzy that he really threw anything in. _

_ But that on portrait.  _

_ God, it had to be in here somewhere!  _

_ Philip turns to face his father, _

_ “What’s a cala- how do you say that?” _

_ Alex takes out a group picture in high school to look at it, though he puts it to the side to shift through the Polaroids. That one held the least priority to him. _

_ “It’s pronounced,  calaveras de azucar . In English it translates to,  sugar skulls  and it's a kind of cookie people bake during  Dia de Los Muertos. ” _

_ That’s it! The holiday his father talks so fondly of. Philip has no clue what’s so exciting about the holiday however. All he knew was that his dad talked about it all year and how they were gonna celebrate it, and that this would be his first  Dia de Los \- whatever it’s called.  _

_ Philip can’t say it like his daddy can. _

_ “We also ate  pan de Muertos . It’s a round shape bread with sugar on it. We’ll have to make that when we’re done with the  altar .” _

_ The elder Hamilton carefully holds up the portrait of his mother, the bright red having faded from her head. She’s looking right into the camera with a relaxed smile gracing her tired face. He turns the photo to the back. _

_ maman, janvier 22, 1986 _

_ Those words scribbled in a black marker. He remembers when this photo was taken.  _

_ “Philip, let’s use this photo of her.” _

_ The four year old takes the picture and puts it on the unfinished altar.  _

_ Next was a dirt blonde man in a cap and gown. He is eagerly holding up his diploma with a wide smile practically plastered onto his face. The man’s blue eyes looked straight at the camera, the background being a bit blurred do to him being the center of attention. _

_ Alexander lingers on the photo, tracing a finger over the face of the man. The elder Hamilton sigh, _

_ “Wanna go get more candles?” _

_ Philip gasps at the generous offer, practically hopping in place.  _

_ “Can we get the one that smells like strawberries?” _

_ “We may.” _

  
  
  



End file.
